You Thought I Was What?
by Silent Sonatas
Summary: In which Soul attempts to confess to Maka in the form of pancakes...and gets a surprising reaction. Oneshot. Somewhat OOC.


**A/N: Hi, to anyone who actually reads these! I've had this account for a while, and I think it's time I finally posted something. Fair warning: Soul is very OOC in this. It's because he's so happy about the potential of having Maka as a girlfriend, so please don't hate me for it... Anyways, onto the story!  
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><p>Soul could practically hear the angels singing of his triumph already. It was a wonderful melody. In fact, he wa positive that if he looked up and out the window right now, he would see a glorious ray of sunlight piercing down from the heavens, illuminating the holy choir. Though he was usually one for a darker tune, this victorious ballad was giving his confidence a high that he'd probably never experienced before. Every fiber of his being rejoiced with the knowledge that on this day, history would be made.<p>

He was finally coming out to Maka.

...Wait. No. That didn't sound quite right.

The angels in his mind wavered at the slip-up in his line of thought. He could hear his demon cackle at the alternate meaning in his mistake. Ah, but even they couldn't ruin this day for him!

He'd meticulously planned every aspect, every hour, every minute, every _second _down to the finest detail. He even woke up extra early just for this.

First, he would wake Maka up with a surprise breakfast in bed. She'd undoubtedly be suspicious, but Soul intended to be as cryptic as possible.

Afterwards, he'd drag her along to play some basketball with the rest of their team. He had made the plans with BlackStar a while back, and it was too late to cancel on him now. However, for the first time, he decided to let Maka read a book on the sidelines instead of playing. He would definitely take her out to lunch to make up for forcing her to tag along. But right before they would enter her favorite restaurant, he would finally confess his true feelings to her. They'd share a romantic lunch together after Maka confirmed that she felt the same way, and then go home. Hopefully there would be a little making out involved.

When he'd told his plan to BlackStar, the self-proclaimed ninja had laughed until he tears came to his eyes.

"Bro," he'd wheezed, still chuckling to himself. "She's not even your girlfriend yet, and you're already whipped."

Soul had rolled his eyes. "Hey, at least I'll be getting some. Where are you with Tsubaki, again?"

"Touché."

Even now, he's sighing at the memory. Truthfully, he didn't care what BlackStar thought of it. For the first time in a long while, he felt jovial. Confident. Elated. _Ecstatic_, even.

Humming to himself, he waltzed into the kitchen and retrieved a bowl from the cabinet to prepare the love of his life a stack of pancakes. He fetched a sack of flour from the pantry. Floating around the kitchen, he began to search for a measuring cup. The recipe he had scrawled on a sticky note and posted to the refridgerator called for one cup of the stuff. When his efforts turned out to be in vain, he decided to guesstimate the amount instead. He tore into the package, coughing at the white dust that had exploded from the gash in the bag. Soul tipped the bag over and set it on the rim. He watched as it filled higher and higher into the clear glass. It wasn't until the flour had long since passed the halfway point that he came to his senses and hastily pulled it away. Rolling up the top, he tossed the much lighter bag back onto the shelf where he assumed it belonged, completely oblivious to the fact that it had actually landed and spilled all over the linoleum floor.

Feeling somewhat accomplished, he tried to recall the next item in the recipe. Some number of eggs, he assumed. He thought it best to consult the sticky note on this one. The young weapon backtracked to the door of the fridge, where the pink slip of paper clung to the metal door. To his dismay, though, he couldn't read a word of what he'd written. He could determine the letters _e_, _g_, and _g _next to each other, but he couldn't distinguish the number next to them. Was that supposed to be a one or a seven. An _I_, perhaps?

He opted for four, just in case.

Soul opened the fridge and groped around blindly for the egg carton. He grabbed the cardboard case, spun around, and set it onto the counter. In the process, he caught a glimpse of the clock.

6:52.

_Maka is gonna wake up soon, _he thought to himself. With one hand, he grabbed the four eggs and smashed them all against the edge of the bowl at once; which resulted in the whites splattering across the once-pristine tabletop. Not to mention that Soul was now sporting a very fashionable uncooked egg on his shirt.

Not wasting any time fishing the eggshells out of the batter, he scraped the shards that were embedded in his hands into the trashcan. He raced back to the pantry in record time and snagged as many paper bags and plastic canisters that looked like they might be used for baking and dashed back into the kitchen. Hoping that he didn't drop too many of them, he dumped the ingredients back onto the marble counter and assessed his haul.

A package labeled _sugar_ caught his eye first. Sugar is good. He reached in and snatched up a handful of the stuff, sprinkling it over the egg-and-flour mix. Another half-empty bottle of cinnamon in the pile attracted his attention, and before he knew it, he was already reaching for the spice and adding quite a generous amount to his concoction.

A thought darted across his mind. _Don't you need, like, yeast or baking soda or something? To make it rise or whatever?_

That sounded about right.

Before he retreated to the kitchen, though, he checked the pile one last time for either of the two ingredients. Though he didn't own a particularly loud clock, the silence was deafening as the hands quietly ticked. Fed up with searching, he sprinted back to the pantry. _Yeast...baking soda...yeast…baking soda..._

The sound of footsteps jolted him out of his stupor.

"Soul?" a familiar voice asked groggily. "What're you doing up so early?"

Luckily, he spotted a tiny plastic container of what looked to be baking powder. Soul took it off the shelf before returning to the kitchen once again. "Oh," he murmured, trying to feign nonchalance. "Hey Maka. I was just doing a little cooking." He motioned to his setup.

"Uh-huh…" She took a step closer for further examination. "Is that why there's flower all over the ground? And eggs everywhere?"

Soul flashed a grin. "All part of the job. And don't worry, I'll clean it all up."

Maka nodded, her captivating green eyes still tinged with sleep. Soul casually turned back to work, combining what he perceived to be an adequate amount of baking powder with the rest of the so-called batter.

Meanwhile, his heart was sprinting laps in his chest. Maka wasn't supposed to be here. She should be in her room to receive the meal in bed that she deserves.

Exhaling, Soul turned back to the bowl and got out a fork to begin mixing everything that was sloshed in the bowl together, while praying to every deity he could think of to make these pancakes edible. He could hear the steady rise and fall of his partner's breath as he did so. The sound was both calming and nerve-wracking at the same time. She must've fallen asleep on the couch and he hadn't noticed.

Once he had beaten the batter down into somewhat of a liquid, Soul took out a pan and placed it on the stove. He carefully poured about half of it onto the cool surface as he turned the dial that would switch the heat on (he thinks).

Soul figured he had a few minutes before he had to flip the pancake. He let his thoughts wander. Not too far, though. Just a few yards into the next room, where his meister was encased in a peaceful slumber. No matter how many times he told her otherwise, he thought, no, he _knew_ that she was beautiful. It's true that he thought her to be quite plain when they had first met. When he'd finally looked beyond the shallow fact that she had no chest to speak of, he'd become _very_ familiar with just how silky her hair was. Sometimes, if it was just the two of them snuggled up on the sofa, he'd pull out her pigtails and comb out her hair with his fingers. His hands would savor the feeling for days after. Not to mention those tempting lips. He found them almost too distracting when she talked. _To hell with the plan_, Soul thought. He'd tell her now.

A burning smell filled the air, and he turned his attention back to the pancake. Since he knew that the pancake would either end up on the ceiling or the floor if he tried to flip it using only the pan, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a spatula. He carefully lifted the first pancake over to the other side. Even though the top was...blackened, he was satisfied with the job.

"Soul?" Maka called again. "What's burning?"

"Oh, well...I tried making you breakfast." That sounded better in his head. It's the thought that counts, right?

At that, Maka rose up to her feet. "Really?" Rubbing her eyes, she ambled into the kitchen. "Thanks, Soul." She gave him a heart-stopping grin. His breath caught.

"Anytime," he said gruffly, lifting her pancake onto a plate and setting it on the table in front of her. "Do you need anything to drink?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine." She looked down at the pancake. "Silverware would be great, though."

"Right." He got up from his seat and plucked a knife and a fork from a different drawer.

"So, Maka," he began when he sat back down, handing her the utensils, "I've got something to tell you."

"What is it?" she said absently as she cut a small piece of pancake.

_Now or never._ She popped the piece into her mouth "I think that I'm in love with you," he blurted.

At that, she choked. Coughing loudly, she doubled over. Soul rushed to her aid, but she turned away.

Several minutes had passed by the time her coughing fit had ended. Seconds that seemed like eternities of silence stretched on immediately after.

"But I...I thought…" She hesitated. "I thought you were gay!"

"You thought I was _WHAT?_"

Maka's face erupted with scarlet. "I...I mean...I used to have a crush on you. But then Liz complained that Kid was always out, and you seemed to disappear at the same time as him...and I just assumed...that you two were dating or something."

For a long time, Soul couldn't speak. This was worse than rejection. She didn't even consider him an _option_. However, that wasn't the most insulting part.

"YOU THOUGHT I WAS _GAY_ FOR _KID_?" he roared.

"Well, I mean, it just kinda made sense. Your hair almost looks like you bleach it -"

"- I CAN'T HELP BEING FREAKING ALBINO -"

"- AND PLUS, YOU JUST SEEM LIKE THE TYPE." Maka raised her voice to match her partner's.

"I DO NOT!"

"KIND OF"

"NOT TO MENTION HOW LONG YOU TAKE IN THE MORNING! I MEAN, WHO USES THAT MUCH _HAIR GEL_?"

"COOL GUYS DO!"

"YOU MEAN GAY GUYS?"

There was a pause, since Soul did not have a response. "Well, what about BlackStar?" Soul shouted, lowering his volume fractionally.

Maka huffed. "Please. He tries too hard with Tsubaki. Besides, don't you think that you and Kid would work?"

"I don't, actually!" He looked ready to punch a wall. To think that the girl who's practically the _love of your life_ thinks that you have feelings for a perfection-obsessed _guy_.

None of this was according to plan.

He stormed out of their shared apartment. Fists clenched, he felt so powerless that he couldn't do anything but scream. And he did, until his throat became hoarse. When he was out of breath as well, he sank down to the ground.

Maybe he should give Kid a call.

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><p><strong>AN: And that's a wrap, folks! Please tell me if I made any mistakes, or if I could improve. I love constructive criticism! Until next time.**

**-Silence**


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